


Hard To Find

by DaisyofGalaxy



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Chance Meetings, Crossing Timelines, F/M, Lost Love, Post-Episode: s09e12 Hell Bent, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension, where the neural block didn't work out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 19:39:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7327633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyofGalaxy/pseuds/DaisyofGalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very first book every cadet in the Academy reads mentions two rules a sane time traveler should follow. There are only two absolutely forbidden things: crossing your own timeline and interfering with already established facts. Centuries earlier, he didn’t listen when they tried to talk some sense into him and broke the latter. Now he is about to flout the other. And again he is doing it because of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic was inspired by the panel on one of the recent convention and my love for the National's music. Hard To Find is the saddest song ever and what's even sadder perfectly reflects whouffaldi in the finale. It was supposed to be an one-shot but started to grow in length pretty quickly. Hope it doesn't show much.

 

 

 

 **I don't know why we had to lose**  
**The ones who took so little space**  
 **They're still waiting for the east**  
 **To cover what we can't erase**

 **I'm not holding out for you**  
**I'm still watching for the signs**  
 **If I tried you'd probably be**  
 **Hard to find**

_The National - Hard To Find_

 

It was supposed to be a routine mission. He was just supposed to help. Assist them with the task which was too heavy for their little, inexperienced shoulders.

But it always works this way – small things that lead to much bigger, sometimes even impossible, ones. Some call it a twist of fate, others claim it is only a stroke of luck, he, in turn, finds it the only real justice in the world of endless unfairness.

“Once again thank you for your help,” a youngster, called Charlie, says as they walk along the narrow corridor which smells like a combination of floor polish and fried food- a common trait of every school in this part of the Galaxy. The building is almost empty, a strange thing taking into account the hundreds of teenagers entering its walls every morning, but quite common in the late afternoon.

“Do you do this often? Catch monsters like Denebians?” The boy keeps talking not minding entirely the fact his conversationalist isn’t even given a chance to chime in to his tightly-packed monologue.

“Funny thing I’ve read recently a book about a man who travelled from one place to another and earned his keep by killing monsters. I even tried to watch its screen adaptation, but it was just so bad. It’s hard to believe how much the movie industry has changed in the last decade. It’s much better. Sometimes, I like to speculate how much better it will be in next ten years. Will they create 5D cinemas and stuff,” the boy buries him with words. They leave his mouth like water leaves a fractured dam.

From time to time, the Doctor turns around and only nods. He isn’t eager to start another conversation today. Not after so many hours of patiently answering to their every, even the dumbest question. Sometimes he can’t understand the people of this planet. More specifically, he can’t catch on why they couldn’t just leave a person alone if they showed all signs informing them about their reserved nature. Instead they felt an unexplainable and utterly ridiculous urge to involve them in conversation, sometimes at any cost. For a society that relished in psychotherapy and talking, they were particularly ignorant.

Guided by the boy, he reaches the last corridor separating him from the main entrance and the red shed in which the Tardis was parked.

“They’ll never create 5D cinemas, if you must know,” he tells the boy with hint of enthusiasm in his voice. It’s a genuine one – a way of showing his just born buoyancy. _He is going home._

“Strange, I thought it was a safe bet.” The boy wrinkles his nose.

“You may disbelieve but I’m from the time-” He starts to smart off but breaks mid sentence when he spots an inscription on the glassy doors leading to one of the classrooms.

“Oswald?” He blurts.

“Yes, Miss Oswald.  She’s my English teacher.” The boy shrugs his thin shoulders. “She seems nice but can be very unforgiving if she’s crossed. Better not to give her reason to dislike you.”

The Doctor looks up at him. His eyes are likely in the size of the Pollux, if not the Arcturus.

“Is?” He chokes up as if he was electrocuted.

Thousands of memories and feelings are waking up in his brain as he reads the short name over and over again. How long has it been since he has last seen her? _Or rather since he let go of her._

“I think so. At least she was in the morning when she gave me a D on my latest test,” the adolescent murmurs, but his words only ring in the Doctor’s head. In that very moment he is back in the middle of a desert in Utah. He sits at a red bar table in a lonesome diner and makes the biggest blunder in his entire life. _How could he not realize it was her?_

“You know her?” He reiterates when his mind comes back to the here and now. Slowly his pulped brain starts to work again. “What’s today’s date?” He almost whispers.

“June 12th 2016.” The boy answers and gives him a blunt look of utter confusion at the same time that he starts to feel first droplets of salty fluid forming in his eyes. Normally, he would never let anyone see him being emotional, but today was different.

He didn’t care anymore. Today reminded him about _it_ all over again.

June 12th – a week from now they’ll go to the Trap street.

A week from now will take him to Gallifrey and he will run away. _Again._

Only this time with her. Then almost intoxicated he will see her in the Diner. He won’t recognize her. She’ll leave and he won’t see her ever again. _For almost three hundred years he had not once come across her._

“I need to check one thing. I’ll find my Tardis myself. Thank you, it was my pleasure.” The Doctor says with a wide, fake grin at his face. He must look like a loony – all smiles and devastation at the same time. Deep down he wishes the adolescent is clever enough to notice his subtle begging to get off his back.

Without another word, the boy turns on his heels and leaves.

 _Only for a second_ \- he tries to salve his conscience as his hand reaches for the screwdriver and starts to work on the old lock blocking the interior of the room from him. To his luck or maybe it was exactly opposite, the door opens without a bigger struggle. _He’s in._

He passes the threshold of the room and quietly closes the door after himself – witnesses of his small crime are the last thing he wants. He can’t tell why he needs to be here. Nor does he want to know his own reasons. Nonetheless it feels almost right. He almost feels her presence when he takes a seat in her chair and stares aimlessly at the space around him. _She’s everywhere._

She’s in the tones of the folders and binders segregated according to their colour on wooden shelves. In the red mug in white dots she keeps on her desk and in the thin cardie hanging from the chair. He unpegs the latter and buries his face in it, breathing in the sweet smell of her – a wonderful mixture of cotton candy, some exotic flowers, and _her_.

He had not once thought he would miss this place. For most of the time he loathed it for its impersonal and clerical character, yet today he would give up everything to one who could give away how to visit it more often.

His hearts skip a beat when he hears a metallic sound of the key in the keyhole.

“Do I sneak up to your Tardis to scare you?” Clara whines as she enters the room and stops next him. She stares at him with her arms crossed and eyes fixed on him so intensely that he can almost feel the skin on his forehead burn.

She’s so perfect. Much more beautiful than the silhouette he sees sometimes when he closes his eyelids and dares to dream about her.

He wants to scream at the top of his lungs. Tell her about everything he wished he could share with her over the last few centuries. About every time he had seen something breath-taking and looked over his shoulder only to once again remind himself that there was no one by his side, and each time he was horrified. He wants to tell her how much he was panting for her company; instead he just stares.

“No. Why do you keep doing that to me then?” She continues while he gazes at her in amazement. His eyes shift around nervously between her face, high-heeled shoes, and dress in white and black stripes.

“Clara-” He finally breaks up. _Almost in agony._

“Don’t you dare try using your tricks on me!” She tells him with a serious expression on her lovely face. There are other words leaving her mouth too, but he can’t hear them. His mind is way too distracted with her red as a raspberry in the summertime lips. _Were they always like this_ \- the shabby neurons are trying to clinch.

Totally unexpected she takes another step forward and wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind.

“It’s good to see you, though. And I’m glad you showed up. I really doubted you would when you promised me to come with me to that wedding,” she breathes out while he feels her chin dig in his skinny neck.

 _What wedding –_ he thinks to himself for good moment before his mind starts to recall an event to which they never attended so long ago. He promised her he would take her there but eventually chickened out telling himself they would only regret it. Now he sees his motive clearly. He knew where their relationship was heading and got scared. It’s funny because right now he would die to take that chance.

He’s about to tell her he can’t. His clever mind whispered thousands of lies she would likely accept without questioning them even for a moment. It seems so easy, but yet he never uses any of them.

“Your ship awaits,” he answers and joins his hands with hers.

If he has to repent of something, at least he will have a really good reason.


	2. Chapter 2

The very first book every cadet in the Academy reads mentions two rules a sane time traveler should follow. There are only two absolutely forbidden things:

  1. Crossing your own timeline and,
  2. Interfering with already established facts.



Centuries earlier, he didn’t listen when they tried to talk some sense into him and broke the latter.

Now he is about to flout the other. And again he is doing it because of _her_.

“The ceremony isn’t until tomorrow afternoon. What do you want to do till then?’’ she asks as they enter the Tardis and the grip of her hand around his loosens. A short whoosh leaves his nostrils when she does it. He isn’t ready. Not after so many years of not having her hand in his.

“What do you suggest?” he mumbles under his breath still grieving lost intimacy.

She leans on the metal guardrail and smiles at him, and her grin is the most charming one he’d ever seen. What was going on with his brain was the question he should ask, but he never does. Instead he settles for gawking.

“We can go somewhere exotic or stay at my place,” she offers.

“Your place!” He cries out with not a second of delay and freezes when even he himself realizes the freakiness of his actions. He needs to compose himself otherwise she’ll blow his cover sooner than he knows.

“Okay,” she drawls. “You sure? My fridge is empty so we either go out or need to visit a grocery store on our way back.”

For a moment he is as quiet as the grave. It’s only a semblance, though. Deep beneath a layer of silver hair, his brain solves the most complicated equation in a very long time.

He would kill for a little role-playing with her, but what would _her_ Doctor choose?

“Shopping will do, but no cooking show, please. I like this new body and don’t want to consider regeneration any time soon,” he says while his tone is doing its best to imitate grousing.

“Then I can only feel sorry for you because there is an apple pie on the menu. But if you don’t want it, I’ll eat it myself,” she answers back and he breathes out a sigh of relief. _She really bought it._

He feels pity for himself however. With hindsight, her desserts weren’t that bad at all. In particular her charlotte with vanilla ice cream. Unfortunately, the moron he was back then didn’t realize his bad.

She joins him by the console panel and helps type the coordinates.

“Come on then. We don’t have the entire day,” she says with excitement as the rotor starts to move. They do it together – just like they always used to.

Before long the engine halts and the ship releases a well-known noise. Not waiting for him, she approaches the doors and peeks outside.

“I meant the supermarket a few blocks away from the school,” Clara giggles before she takes the first step. He follows in silence and takes a good look at her. A concern that she may catch him red-handed passes through his mind, but the urge to see as much of her as he can is stronger.

After a long moment and a little bit more satisfied, he catches up with her.

“We’re on Hyspero. Best marketplace in the known part of the Universe,” he explains to her.

She reaches her hand back and wraps it gently around his arm.

“I was aiming for shepherd’s pie and beer, but I appreciate the effort,” she hums while they walk beneath a huge wooden banner informing them that they have entered the market.

“Fancy little lesson on local gastronomy? I have a feeling I haven’t seen any of it in my life,” she concludes sadly as they pass first of stalls.

“Do you prefer the taste of chicken or salmon?” he tries to be considerate and stops in front of a butcher stand. He points at many different types of meat each time giving her a quick description of what she can expect. After a long moment of consideration, she decides on a few blue shellfishes resembling king crabs.

“You dress them!” she directs to him as the salesman hands her the purchase.

“They’re quite good with butter and few drops of fresh gayumber juice.” He rolls his eyes and takes the apparently disguising package. He can’t understand how it was even possible – liking chicken and pork and yet looking at other meat with disgust. “I was about to suggest coriander soup but since you can’t bear simple crabs you likely won’t like alien venison.”

Hearing him, Clara only shakes her head.

“I thought so,” he sighs and gestures for her to move.

After few rounds around the market, they take a seat on a wooden bench, watching the world around them continue its mad race. Now when he finally has a chance to glance at it, his eyes notice how much has changed since they arrived. It must be getting late- he reasons out. The star illuminating the market decorates it now with a pale golden glow. It seems colder. Also the crowd in which they had to shift around not so long ago is almost gone.

                “You upset me,” Clara stirs the silence. “Two weeks ago when I kissed you and you packed your stuff and left me. I felt like an idiot. After Tranzelore, I promised myself I won’t let you get there ever again. I forgave you and you did it again.”

He knows too well what she is talking about. Even after so many years, he still remembers.

That evening they put their feet up in her flat, she found some courage and brushed her lips to his. In return, he lied that he had to go to bathroom and ran away.

“I’m glad you showed up again,” she continues. “Although pretending it didn’t happen is worse than hearing you finally say _that_.”

“It’s not the right time,’ he sighs. It really isn’t. After all, it’s not he with whom she should talk it through.

“I know it’s not. It never is!” she cuts him. For a moment she remains silent, just stares aimlessly and purses her lips critically. “Can you take me home now?” It is more of a demand and gets up off the bench.

She keeps the tension down during their entire way back. The only words leaving her mouth are quick instructions to unpack the bags and help her with _the_ _freaking crabs_.

“Pass me the remote,” she says coldly as they lie on the pulled out bed-settee in her living room. All seems quite cosy: darkness, warm blankets, the smell of her freshly-bathed body so close to his own, a huge bowl of popcorn he keeps on his belly and some silly cartoons which clearly weren’t for children. Everything is just like he wished it would be, yet it feels far from comfortable. Heavy clouds his younger self brought still hang above their heads.

She does everything to show how annoyed she is, but still her hands reach for his each time he dares to pull away from the hug. Everything is so ambiguous and it confuses him.

“Can I change the channel?” he asks when the episode ends. He never gets a response other than soft snores coming from the body next to him.

With one click he turns the flickering machine off and the room sinks into complete darkness. The only navigation in the dark is now a dim light creeping in through the curtains. He likes the change. It even convinces his mind it’s time to sleep.

He moves closer to her. A long sigh leaves her lips when she subconsciously feels his presence, but she doesn’t wake up. She just gulps and tightens her grasp on his arm. Slowly, he lets himself drift off a little. Eyes closed and face buried in her pyjamas, as he breathes in the sweet scent he missed for all these years.

It drives him insane.

In less than a week it will be over. Both their travels and the friendship he wished could last forever. It crosses his mind he could change it - take her away even tonight and stop the tragedy before it happened.

He knows he doesn’t want it, though. Put at risk something he fought so much for is even worse than letting it be. She might be far away, but at least she’s there. Somewhere far away from him, yet still very much real. He just hasn’t found her yet. 

The Moon peeks into the room as he lies in the bed and stares into space. Maybe sometime… Somewhere… Some way… she glances at a twin celestial body and thinks about him. Nah, she likely forgot about him forever ago, convinced he did the same.

_If only she knew…_

He snuggles to her and mulls over it. His brain starts again the debate if she forgot about him already? Is he another Danny Pink now? A photography resting silently on her bookshelf or bedside table or a memory of the past that will always remain only past. She did it to Danny, so why would it be different with him?

He could never do that to her. Even with the neural block paralysing his brain, he still knows to whom his hearts belongs. But what about her?

If he knew the she still cares about him, even a little bit, he would leave no stone unturned and find her.

Only he doesn’t have this privilege. Doubts are all he was left with.

On better days, he thinks she hasn’t changed much. On others, he claims there is nothing to save anymore.

He doesn’t want to sleep but gradually he does.

It feels like crying himself to sleep. Almost.  

The room around them slowly starts to change into nothingness and he stops to mind it. He’s finally in a place where the sadness can’t reach.


	3. Chapter 3

She’s five years old again. The house that smells like soufflés and peonies is brought back to life, vivid and enticing. She sits on a tall kitchen chair and samples freshly baked rolls.

“It’s still hot,-” Her mother joins her and forewarns. “Don’t be greedy. It needs time, sweetheart,” she says, smiling.

She takes a glance at the roll in her hand and freezes. Her fingers dig out from the pastry raw flowers of _Viola odorata_.

“It’s okay,” her mum whispers and stops her.

Then the image blackens.

She’s back in her flat. The Doctor lying next to her. His concerned eyes stare at her in the dim light of the moon.

“Bad dream?” he asks and she nods. Without a word, he folds his arms around her.

“It was my Mum again. I always see her when there is something bad about to happen,” she replies and buries her face in his t-shirt. With her ear pressed to his chest, she listens to his steady heartbeat.

 

***

 

At the break of dawn, her car stops in front of a well-known house. The door opens shortly after, revealing her grandma. She’s in her Sunday best. Her hair formed into curls that don’t even budge at the strong wind. Likely because of the tons of hairspray in it.

“Stay here,” the Doctor says from the seat next to hers and leaves the vehicle. Before long, he’s by the door, greeting her Gran and dragging her luggage to the car. The woman follows him silently, from time to time patting his back.

She bought it, she mumbles more irritated than pleased. When she agreed to introduce him as John Smith, her boyfriend and Physicist she didn’t find anything wrong in it. Now she wished they never met.

“I have something for you, Johnny,” Gran chatters as she makes herself comfortable on the back seat. And here you go, she whispers under her breath seeing the old lady already in action. Gran unwraps the package lying on her laps and hands it to her. A dozen of miniature tarts sits inside it. “Custard and maple syrup just as he likes,” she adds proudly.

Clara takes the handmade box from her and puts it on the dashboard. “He’ll have to wait till we’re in Blackpool,” she replies.

“Why?” the Doctor and Gran whine in unison.

“Because he should keep both hands on the wheel. And no crumbs in my car.”

“What’s wrong with few crumbs?” her grandma asks sweetly.

“Everything! Besides, he doesn’t allow me to eat in his so now we’re even.”

“Moonshine, sweetheart. Johnny, I have a favour to ask.”

“I’m all ears,” he replies and reaches for the cake. She rolls her eyes as he does so but doesn’t say a word. It’s a lost battle, she knows deep down.

“A friend of mine visited me recently. I showed her what you did with the garden. She was really impressed with those blue poppies you gave me. Would you be so nice and fetch some seeds for her as well?”

“Of course!” he says without hesitation.

“Thank you. Now as we’re set, are the pastries good? I’d like to know if I’ve got the proportions right. It’s Lisa’s recipe. The woman we met at poker.”

“What poker? Is that what you do on Thursdays?” Clara cries out with her eyes wide open. The Doctor had long history of gambling, but her Gran? She spends her days either in church or baking.

“Oh yes- Lisa. I owe her a sofa,” the Doctor says, rubbing his scalp. The story becomes more and more interesting. “How is her son doing? Has he started working for the bank already?” he asks.

“He did. And dumped it after few days. He got better offer or something.”

“Interesting.”

She lets the conversation continue, puts her headphones on and decides on a little nap.

It’s not only a way to avoid their company. She’s properly sleepy. The morning sun making the toll of nightmares even more severe.

 

_Suddenly, she’s in some courtroom._

_It’s not an earthy one. There are aliens of multiple races around her, talking about a crime that was recently committed. It’s just robbery, yet the fuss around the case is enormous. Even she can feel it._

_Soon the decision is made._

_They place him in front of a huge mirror in the room and read the sentence._

_“It’s not even ten and we’re already here,” the Doctor’s voice says in the far. He’s there but she can’t see him._

 

She opens her eyes, the real ones, and realises they are already in Blackpool. Her family house ahead of them.  

“Whatever,” she answers and leaves the vehicle without glancing at him once.

He’s right behind her. She sees him in the corner of her eyes as he approaches the car trunk and retrieves their luggage.

“Bet Linda rules the roost the entire morning,” Gran says, smiling and gestures her to go inside.

She complies but waits for the Doctor by the doors.

He meets her moments later with their suitcases.

“You didn’t have to wait, darling.-” He hums as he passes her. A mischievous smile on his lips whereas she only snorts.

No one can see them, why can’t he stop for a while?

“Hello?” she calls loudly once they enter the house. The echo of empty walls is even more uncomfortable than the family meeting itself.

She orders him to leave the luggage in the hallway and follow her. First to the kitchen, then to the laundry room and then the living room.

They find her dad in the garden, watering a wall of red roses.

“Do you really need to do this today?” she reprimands him, but softens quickly and folds her arms around him in a warm embrace. She could never be angry on this man. Not when there are only two of them on this world.

“I seeded them when I was your age. They remember every good and bad thing that happened in this house. Is this bad I want to make sure they’re fine,” he says and her eyes begin to sting as a sad memory of her mum returns to her.

“Not at all,” she answers and takes a glance at her dad’s boast.

“She’s right – it’s going to rain,” the Doctor murmurs as he joins them. He’s ready to play his part, she can tell. A fake grin on his lips and hand reached in direction of her father. “I brought her safe and sound just as I promised,” he adds and places a wet kiss to her cheek.

Her dad asks them to the dining room. A breakfast is already placed on the table, sizzling.

“So John, how is the project going?” she hears him ask over the breakfast table.

Ever since her family met him, the Doctor has always been the centre of attention, constantly screened and assessed. Today is not an exception. Definitely not. From today it’ll be official, with her all relatives aware of his presence.

She has never minded it. Even found it adorable – him playing her flame and her family slowly getting accustomed to him. The semblance appealed to her a lot and after all, she could always say they broke up. Now she knows it wasn’t right, only made her hope for something she shouldn’t want in the first place.

“There is a program on Sundays about new discoveries in science. We like to watch it sometimes. Try to imagine what your work must look like. It all sounds so exciting,” he continues. Both men look at each other and nod keenly.

“Same old same old. Still can’t figure out why it isn’t working,” the Doctor tries to stall the grand jury while she does her best not to show her growing frustration. He isn’t husband material and she wishes her father knew.

“I’m not surprised, you have to juggle your time between a woman-“her dad starts but is ceased by the sound of her loud grunting.

“Sorry, I can’t do this anymore. We’re not together. We have never been,” she says coldly and rises from her seat, leaving both them and her almost-full plate.

 

***

 

She closes the door to her room and lets herself fall on the pillows. She doesn’t cry- far from it. Her mood switching between desperation to pure fury. And it’s all her fault.

If for that ill-fated kiss, all would be easier. It would still be just a play but she gave him a sign. A rejection she would bear, but what if he wants to be with her?

She doesn’t have long before she hears a quiet knock on the door.

“May I come in,” the Doctor asks sheepishly. Of course, he came. Silly Doctor, always next to her.

Without a word of reply, she storms to the door, opens it, and comes back to the bed before he can spot she was crying. Well, apparently she was.

“Your dad knows, more or less. He’s surprised but should be fine. The only problem remaining is the wedding. Do you still want me to go with you?” He makes it clear.

“We drove the entire morning. You should attend if you’re here already,” she answers.

He doesn’t say anything, but by the way the mattress moves she can tell he lies down beside her. Soon, his arm is on her waist, keeping her close to him.

“Hugging makes everything better?” he whispers merrily. His hot breath tickles.

She pulls away from him.

“Only if it’s given by the person who didn’t make you sad,” her hoarse voice says.

“Okay then. I’ll meet you downstairs,” he replies and brushes his lips to her hair. “I care about you. Maybe it doesn’t seem like enough, but I do,” he says as he gets himself up. His words ring in her ears for a good while. She hates them but they’re the only ones she wants to hear from him.

She doesn’t turn around until she hears him leave the room. Slowly, she takes a seat. Her eyes aimlessly staring at empty space. Nothing but confusion in her mind.

Telling the truth was supposed to help, but now she isn’t sure anymore. She feels as bad as before, only she made everything worse. Maybe even gave him a reason to try harder.

Her gaze is attracted by her reflection in the mirror. She always loathed that cliché moments in horror movies when the character stares into the eyes of death, but now she’s doing exactly the same thing. She gawks at the creature which looks like her but whose movements are different. The other her rose from the bed already. She’s halfway to the mirror, moving like people on glitchy filmstrip. Soon, she’s by the glass. Her head tilted, hand placed on the surface.

For some undefined reason she’s still in the room, like if she wants to test if the creature can pass and reach her. For a moment she’s curious, but interest changes into panic when it takes another step and vanishes from the mirror entirely.


	4. Chapter 4

12:40:07

 

She wants to shout when she opens her eyes and sees only darkness. It wasn’t a dream- she is brutally convinced. Or did she somehow get here on her own? There’s a name for problems like this, isn’t there? Only she’s never sleep-walked. Not once, even as a child. So why now?

With eyes closed, she tries to focus on the sounds around her. Like a bat, she hopes to touch the world around with her ears. Maybe even figure out where she is. There is water nearby, dripping into something that makes it echo loudly. Its repetitive tapping is almost like words.

Slowly, pieces begin to fall into place. The sound of the water, a reflection of familiar stained glass on one of the walls- she was in the basement of her family home. 

She gets back to her feet. Nothing hurts and it’s a good sign, she thinks. There is a great chance she’ll have to run. She always does. Or is kidnapping a way the thing from the mirror makes friends? A memory of the creature alone makes her shiver. 

If she wants to survive, she has to act quickly. First, she has to get out. 

She takes a step and realises that darkness is walking’s worst enemy. Her knees are sore and likely bleeding from collisions with objects on her way to freedom. 

She grabs the doorknob and turns it. The door opens and the light pours through her dilated pupils, leaving her dumbfounded and blind. 

But the vision comes back.

It must be back, only she can’t believe in anything she sees. She leaves the building and stands on the driveway. Her eyes skim over the pictures again and again as if she hopes to remove a spell. 

The entire world around her is like a still from a zombie movie- abandoned and silent. 

 

12:40:07

 

_ The planet appears to be deserted  _ – she writes in her journal. She’s in the bathroom, surrounded by boxes of instant porridge, an electric kettle, and golf clubs and blankets. 

It’s far from perfect, but at least there is running water and a lock on the door to protect her from strangers. No one has showed up so far, but she won’t risk it. She goes out in daylight but only then. And she never ventures more than twenty feet from the front door. 

Well, she didn’t until now. Her supplies are running out quickly.

She finishes writing and puts the notebook under the pillow, turns the light off and the room darkens. With her face buried in a soft throw, she lets herself drift off a bit. Probably she should sleep, but it’s impossible. Not when she has to leave the house. What hides in the dark? Is it safe? Her intuition tells her something’s missing. 

Every world has inhabitants. Why not this one?

Her contemplations are stirred by the sound of glass breaking. It’s from downstairs, she realises with terror. Not thinking twice, she grabs the club and leave the safety of the bathroom. Cautiously she goes down the stairs, minding the squeaking third step, and reaches the hallway. 

She checks the living room, then the kitchen and the laundry room. All of them are clear of intruders. A short laugh leaves her as she leans on the door frame and catches her breath. It was just her imagination. Just her ridiculous imagination.

She’s about to vanish upstairs when she feels someone’s hand on her face. 

“Clara, be quiet,” the Doctor says calmly and lets her go.

“What are you doing here?” she asks. Her hand is on his cheek as if she needs to check if it’s really him.

“The mirror in our room, long story. What about you?” 

 

12:40:07

 

“So the mirror in your dad’s home is a bit odd,” he says over a mug of tea she made him. He sits on the duvet and glances at the shelter she was preparing over the last few days, maybe even admiring her genius. “I see plenty of rubbish but do you have a radio?” he finally asks.

“Checked already. No signal. There is even one funnier thing,” she replies and reaches for her pocket and pulls out an old watch in it. “All clocks in the house aren’t working.”

“Maybe there was no one to change the battery?” he chuckles but takes the item from her hand, examines it for a while and then returns it.

“I thought so too. My phone always shows June 14, 12:40 in the afternoon. Only, I know I’ve been here for days. It’s like it’s stuck or something.”

“It was like an hour for me.” He terrifies her with his statement. “We’ll check everything. I’ll go out. Meanwhile you’ll take a shower and a long nap. How does that sound?” he offers, smiling. 

“I’m not letting you go anywhere on your own. It’s dangerous for two. Let alone for a solo mission,” she says and gets back on her feet as if she suspected he would tide her if she didn’t escape in time.

He looks at her and only shakes his head. 

“We’ll go together. But first rest.”

 

12:40:07

 

They spent the afternoon in ASDA, wandering between aisles of everything a client could want. There is everything, from vegetables and clothes to electronics and gardening tools. The only things missing are people. 

She’s surprised, but only partly. It’s been like this ever since the car left the driveway. No reason to even stop at red lights. Why would they, if their car was the only one on the road?

Silently, she pushes the trolley and seeks out items on the list while the Doctor’s in the DIY department, gathering parts for some secret project. She’s glad he’s not looking over her shoulder. The only way to make it worse is to make her explain to him why she took so many chocolate bars and pain killers.

“Clara!” she hears him call from just steps away.

“Did you find everything?” she asks and takes a peek at his basket. It’s almost full. Full of huge magnets. “Is this why we came here? For magnets?” She rises her eyebrow at him and he only grins.

It takes a good while before they collect everything and reach the tills. It feels weird to pass without paying. A thrill of adrenaline  rushes through her system as they pack everything into the trunk and leave the parking lot without a word. 

 

12:40:07

 

“You sure it’ll work?” Clara asks as she observes the Doctor working. He’s on a ladder, pointing the sonic screwdriver at a magnet glued to the window in the living room. 

“Of course it will. I was playing with basic force fields when I was in kindergarten. It’s the last one, so we will get our answer shortly.” He looks at her and smiles. She has no clue why but the situation seems to make him content, if not happy. Like if he waited for it. 

“Three, two,” he counts and joins her at the ground. His arms around her as a layer of bright purple plasma covers windows. “Told you, it’s a good idea,” he whispers proudly. “Now, I need to switch the colour to something less obvious, don’t you think?” 

“Yes, it’s going to give me a seizure,” she replies, giggling.

 

12:40:07

 

She eats in the dining room for the first time in days.  It feels really good, finally, to have a chance to sit by an actual table and have a proper meal. 

“It’s delicious.” The Doctor complements the spaghetti. The light of candles reflects in his eyes as he looks at her with interest. “When did you learn to cook like this?”

“Well, I mixed the cooking sauce and pasta,” she replies and takes a sip of red wine. “It’s you who did most of the work today. We would still be trapped upstairs if not for the force field.”

He chuckles lightly and only glances at her with his most beautiful smile. 

“It’s just twenty-five magnets and mode 303. But if you say so.” She hears him say shyly.

 

12:40:07

 

It’s still dark when she wakes up. She moves her palm over the mattress and realises the Doctor isn’t there. It annoys her, he promised to don’t leave her side. This is the condition she gave him, otherwise she would never agree to sleep here. Sighing, she sits on the bed and looks around. He is nowhere to be found. 

Slowly, she gets up and is about to leave the bedroom when something tells her to look through the window. She spots him without trouble, swinging at the playground by the opposite side of the street.

She goes to him and without a word takes a seat on the swing next to him. 

“Clara, there is something I need to tell you,” he says before she does.  She turns around and freezes, overwhelmed with the sadness in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” She whispers but he only gawks. The coldness of his gaze makes the blood coagulate in her veins. “Doctor, tell me now. What’s going on?” She repeats. It’s more a demand this time.

“I’m not him, Clara.”

“You’re not whom?” 

“I just wanted to see your office but you came in. I didn’t have time to think. I’m so sorry,” he admits and buries his face in his hands. 

She’s paralysed for a good while as she, watches her best friend curl up like a stray dog because of a crime she doesn’t understand. Confusion changes into pity when she finally puts all the pieces together. He isn’t her Doctor, but a shadow of the man she knows.  

“You’re from the future, right?” she asks. 

“How did it happen? You and I not travelling together?” she starts after a good while. Their swings dance in perfect harmony. Night breeze dabs her glowing cheeks. “Or don’t tell me! I’d rather hope it won’t happen anytime soon. I just need to know how long it was to you, “she says and looks away, and does her best to hide her tears.

“Three hundred and ten years, two months, sixteen days and around twenty-five minutes,” he replies and his precision makes her only sadder. She was aware it would happen, yet until now there was always hope. A reason to believe there is time. This evening her fears got a form. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.” He whines once he finally gathers enough courage to speak. She looks at him in the dim light of the street lamps and notices his eyes are just as glassy as hers. 

“Just tell me you found yourself a companion.”  

“I did. Her name is Bill. You two would like each other.”

“Would we?”

“Likely not. You’re bossy. That’s why I’ve never got a second companion while travelling with you.” He chuckles and she tries too. She’s far from happy, but she’s trying. For the sake of them both, it is better to avoid drama. Tomorrow morning or the next week, he will disappear forever. Crying won’t help. Even if they both feel like their world just fell apart. 

“I wasn’t that bad. We both weren’t,” she corrects him. If she’s about to say anything, now it’s likely the time. “There were better and worse days but I adored our adventures. And  _ our _ friendship. We were sometimes a step from killing each other, but still it was nice.”

“It wasn’t nice. It was amazing,” he whispers and she believes him. It was indeed  _ amazing _ . Even if brief, the time with him does and always will mean more than the rest of her life. 

“You were the best thing that happened to me yet I couldn’t cherish it. Simply keep the memory of you pure and safe. I shouldn’t have crossed my timeline. The thing with the mirror, the wedding, us talking right now – it all shouldn’t happen. It wouldn’t if I stuck to the rules. ” He bashes himself and she only shakes her head, waiting for him to finish.

“Don’t you dare,” she finally cuts him off. “Who cares about rules? I don’t. The only thing that matters to me is how you feel. Are you happy, Doctor?” she points out and he gives her a sad smile. The one that always means he’s hopeless. “You’ll need to try then!” she continues. “I could not bear knowing you’re there unhappy and I can’t do anything about it. I can now and I will. When this is over, you’ll find something that makes you happy. Understood?”

“I want you. You make me happy,” he mumbles. “So you’re not mad?” he adds. 

“How can I be mad?” She swears she turns her face only for a moment but when she looks at the swing again, he’s gone. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. And please leave a kudo. It helps writing. :) Stayed tuned for my other works and don't forget to visit me on tumblr. @daisyofgalaxy11


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